


But Promise Me At Least

by BumpkinDice



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Love, M/M, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BumpkinDice/pseuds/BumpkinDice
Summary: Madara, still in mourning, sees a face he never would have thought he'd see again.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	But Promise Me At Least

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, guess what this fic is inspired by? 
> 
> Also I tried angst, it hurts, I could have gone on but it *hurts*. ;,D
> 
> No beta!
> 
> (Actually, I might continue this later on.)

Madara walked down the vacant street, rain falling down over his spiky hair. Not that he minded, the cold of the raindrops at least gave him some sensation of life, making him shiver. He’d catch a cold but he didn’t care. What was the point? If he got sick and died, it was better than living on suffering. All he ever received in life was loss after loss.    
  
When a man walked into him, apologizing to him, Madara growled. The stranger looked startled and fled. Onlookers gave Madara a look of wary disdain. ‘Fuck them’ he thought, not thinking their opinions having any value. People would either look his way with judging looks or ignore his existence. He preferred the latter. He ignored them in turn. When he got home, unlocking his front door, kicking off his shoes once in. The house was quiet as usual, no life beside his ever present. It was dusty and looked fairly plain. Going to the fridge, he opened it only to see it empty besides a carton of milk and three stray eggs. Pitiful. He should go shopping, he thought. No, he could wait, not in the mood to be around others.    
  
Scratching his head, noticing how long it had gotten, he sighed. Last time he got a haircut was when he was 10.    
  
_ ‘I think I want to grow out my hair, what do you think, Mads?’ _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ‘Tsk, anything is better than your hair now,’ _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ‘Why are you so mean, Maddie!’ _ _   
_ _   
_ _ ‘Don’t call me that!’ _ _   
_ _   
_ Madara startled when he heard the kettle screech, not even recalling when he had started the preparation to make tea. He really was out of it but then again, when had he last been in focus with his life? Looking at the time, he saw it was 3pm, the time his dad called everyday. Of course Madara will not pick up. What was the point? He had nothing to say to his old man but the fucker was persistent. It pissed him off to a great degree, not understanding why his father thought he could just talk to Madara as if they were close, as if nothing had happened.    
  
“Aw, Madara, why are you ignoring the call? It could be important!” He heard a voice say, turning he saw Hashirama Senju. The man stood tall with long, flowing brown hair, a smile on his beautiful face.    
  
“I could have sworn I only had one beer today,” madara said offhandedly, before opening the cupboard to get out a cup to pour the tea in.   
  
“Don’t ignore me too! I want tea as well, I know it’s jasmine, that’s my favorite!” The bubly man said and Madara did as he was told, in autopilot. Hashirama could demand anything and Madara would try his best to fulfill his requests. It’s always been that way since they became friends in preschool. Going to the table, both sat, sipping at their tea.   
  
“What brings a dead man to my house?” Madara asked, breaking the silence. Odd since he preferred no chatter. He barely talks to anyone these days.   
  
“Oh yes, well you see, Madara. I am here to make sure you keep your promise!” Hashirama said, a wide grin on his face. Madara blinked, now taking the time to truly look at the  **man** ...Yes, a man, not the young boy he last saw before his best friend lost his life. Yet here he sat, a grown adult. He must be drunk or high or deranged. Had the final screw been dropped?    
  
“What promise? I don’t remember promising anything to you!” He shouted, now pissed off. It was a lie, he had made a dozen promises to the other. Most silly, the kinds ids would forget within days. Hashirama looked hurt.   
  
“You have to remember, not me, Mads, that’s not how it goes,” He said. Crossing his arms. Madara felt an eyebrow twitch and he groaned, leaning back on his arms, looking at the ceiling. His dad would think him insane if he said he saw the ghost of his long deceased friend. Tobirama would be pissed that Madara would ever dare think of his brother. Mito would sob, if she still cared. He hasn’t talked to her in forever. Touka would probably punch him. Sasuke would look at him with pity. He hadn’t talked to them since that day that destroyed Madara.   
  
“Why?” he asked, short and to the point. This hallucination needed to be over. Maybe sleep would help. He hadn’t been sleeping well for the longest as well, his eye bags now permanent.    
  
“Because I can’t move on and go to the land of peace, that’s why, duh,” Hashirama said matter of factly, as if the mere question was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. After life, Hashirama couldn’t move on, huh? Madara frowned, understanding what it was like to not be able to let go. His life had been in pause for years now. With losing Izuna than Hashirama, he saw no point in trying with his life.    
  
Madara placed his hands on the table, clenching his fists, body shaking. It didn’t make sense that now he started to see the ghost of Hashirama, was it punishment? He knew he deserved it but why now? Why after all the time that has passed? When a pair of hands covered his fists, he looked up to see Hashirama smile softly at him.   
  
“It’ll be okay, I’ll help you,” He said, his tone so full of care and purity. How he always sounded. The other was the epitome of kindness and care. Always lending a hand no matter what, never judging. It wasn’t in his nature. He was goodness. Yet why was he taken? Did he not deserve to live or did this world not deserve him? Was it the same for his little brother? Turning one hand over so that the palm rested against the others, Madara looked the other in the eyes.   
  
“I know you will, it's why...you’re my best friend,” he said, pausing midway, not ready to confess what he had wanted to say for so long. It was too early or was it too late? It didn’t matter, he had to recall what specific promise he had made and complete it to help his friend move on.   
  
It was the least he could do, since after all, Hashirama died because of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? Okay-ish? XD
> 
> Kudo/Comments appreciated.


End file.
